


Love Doesn't Discriminate

by BetweenTheSinnersAndTheSaints



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Eliza is ace because my heart, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Will update tags as story progresses but should end up being the fluffiest poly fic you every read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7339006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenTheSinnersAndTheSaints/pseuds/BetweenTheSinnersAndTheSaints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you talking to me?”<br/>“Yeah! I said ‘you with the cute freckles’, didn’t I?” replied the stranger with a smile. John blushed and tried to formulate a response but the Rainbow Man was talking again before John could open his mouth.<br/>“Anyway, sorry to bother you but you’re holding my notebook.” </p><p>John Laurens is standing nervously at the side of a Pride parade when he meets one Alexander Hamilton. Eventual  poly Elams fluff.</p><p>edit: this is morphing into a Coffee Shop AU™ because I am trash and I have nO REGRETS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meet Cute

“2 4 6 8 Love doesn’t discriminate”

  
Alex heard a chant go up from somewhere behind him up and turned his head, grinning and trying to identify the source. It was no use; the streets were awash with people and noise and colour and _joy._ It was Alex’s first Pride in New York and he was having the time of his life. (He had, of course, tried to organise pride events ever since coming out as bi in college but, despite his effusive letters to the school newspaper, turnout had been disappointing.) Emboldened by the chorus of voices around him, Alex joined the chant: “2 4 6 8 Love doesn’t discriminate. 2 4 6 8 Love will always conquer hate.”

  
John Laurens stood at the side of a busy street, uncharacteristically quiet. Although John had never in his life been described as shy, he was hesitant to jump into the hustle and bustle of New York City’s 2016 Pride parade. Every 5 minutes he took a deep breath and resolved to start marching along with the crowd. And every 5 minutes he could hear his father’s voice from a dark corner in the back of his mind: “Come now, Jack, stop with this nonsense. You wouldn’t want to throw away your future, not to mention the honour and reputation of this family, on this little phase, whatever it is, would you? Now man up and we won’t mention this again.”

  
John looked down at the ground and tried to remember the breathing exercises that sometimes helped when he got stressed. In-2-3-4, out-2-3-4, in-2-3 -4, out-2-3-4. As he stared at the ground, his heart rate returning to something like normal, John noticed a notebook lying abandoned on the sidewalk. It looked worn with use, pages sticking out at odd angles and ink stains on the cover. He picked it up and turned to the first page: “Property of Alexander Hamilton. If found please return to-”

  
“HEY! Hi, excuse me! You with the cute freckles!”

  
John stopped reading and looked up. He saw a man with rainbows painted on both cheeks jogging towards him. He was immediately struck by the worried look on the man’s face, which softened into a smile as he got closer to John.

  
“Are you talking to me?”

  
“Yeah! I said ‘you with the cute freckles’, didn’t I?” replied the stranger with a smile. John blushed and tried to formulate a response but the Rainbow Man was talking again before John could open his mouth.

  
“Anyway, sorry to bother you but you’re holding my notebook.”

  
“Sorry! I just found down there,” John gestured to the ground by their feet before handing the book over, “you, uh, you must be Alexander Hamilton?”

  
“Yes! But everybody calls me Alex! Except sometimes Angelica, when she’s mad, but to be honest if Angelica’s mad at you then getting full-named is the least of your problems. The women is a force of nature.” Rainbow Man (Alex, John corrected himself) stopped talking suddenly, as if remembering that he didn’t actually know John.

  
“Wow, she sounds terrifying. My name’s John, by the way. John Laurens.” John said, holding out his hand.

  
“Nice to meet you, John Laurens.” Alex grinned as he shook the proffered hand. After sizing John up for a beat he started talking rapidly again.“Are you with anyone? In the parade, I mean? I wasn’t trying to hit on you! I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to hit on you! You’re a very good-looking man and as we’ve already established, you have very cute freckles. I was just wondering if you wanted to march together in the parade for a bit? Don’t feel pressured to say yes though, I know we’ve only just met and I can come on a bit too strong. Everyone’s always telling me I talk too much but I just-“

  
“Alex,” John interjected, visibly amused by how flustered his new acquaintance had become, “I would be honored if you would walk with me in the parade. I’ve been trying to work up the courage to join in for about twenty minutes now.”

  
Alex chuckled, stuffed the notebook into his coat pocket, and began to walk.

  
“Why were you nervous?”

  
“Um, I don’t know. I’ve just never really been to anything like this before, I guess?” John glanced at Alex, who seemed somehow at home amidst this huge explosion of color and noise. He wished he could be that confident here. “And I’ve only just moved to New York, I don’t really know anyone here.”

  
“Well that just won’t do, John Laurens!” exclaimed Alex, with a melodramatic gasp to punctuate his point. John giggled at the scandalized expression on the other man’s face. “How would you like to join my friends and I for a drink tonight? We’re an odd bunch, but kind at heart, and Lafayette and Mulligan would never let me forget it if I let a cute, stray boy like yourself languish alone on the streets of New York. And at Pride nonetheless!”

  
“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” John smiled. “Can we exchange numbers? I actually have to go meet my new roommate across town; I literally did just move here! I’ve been staying in a hostel until I could get myself sorted but I finally found an apartment and the girl who’s letting it seems super nice. I’m moving in today.”

  
“Sure thing! I’ll text you the details for meeting up later,” Alex replied, typing his number into John’s cell phone, “Good luck with the apartment thing; it was lovely to meet you!”

  
“You too!” John smiled as he turned and started to make his way to the subway. Things were certainly looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Also, this hasn't yet been beta-d so apologies for any mistakes. Please leave comments and/or suggestions (constructive criticism, like "stop using so many damn subordinate clauses!" and "why do you write like a 12 year old m8?" is always welcome!) xxx


	2. The Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In the hour the guys had been chatting, the bar had got considerably louder and its clientele significantly drunker. The men had broken the ice quickly, especially when the retro hipster jukebox played Kate Bush’s ‘Wuthering Heights’ and all four of them simultaneously and unironically proclaimed: “This song is my JAM!” and launched into a spirited rendition, complete with interpretive dance."
> 
> John meets Eliza (the cinammon roll herself) and then goes out drinking with the revolutionary squad.

John stood on the doorstep of his new apartment. This was it; he was about to become a proper New Yorker. Well, perhaps that was a bit premature but he no longer felt like a tourist now that he had somewhere permanent to live. He raised his fist to knock on the door, but before he could make contact it swung open to reveal a beaming young woman.

“Hi, you must be John! I thought I heard someone out there! I know how nerve-wracking it can be to move to a new place so I thought I’d come and get you. I’m Eliza, it’s lovely to finally meet you.”

All this was said in one breath and with a warm smile. John nodded, slightly taken aback but utterly swept up by Eliza’s charm.

“Yes, I’m John Laurens. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand. (The intricacies of formal greetings having been drilled into him for his father’s Important Political Events). Eliza giggled at the gesture and went in for a hug.

“Come inside!”

Dragging his suitcase behind him, John followed her into the apartment. How strange it was that the only things he owned now fit into one large suitcase and a rucksack.

“Thank you so much for this. I was so worried I’d never find anywhere to live. New York’s still pretty new for me.” Eliza turned to him with a sympathetic look.

“No need to thank me. But, God yeah, this city can be pretty overwhelming, and that’s coming from someone who’s lived here her whole life! I remember the first time I moved away from my family to live by myself I was absolutely terrified. I have two sisters and we’d always sort of come as a group. We’re all still very close but it was odd to try and establish my own identity outside of my family.” John nodded, although he found it difficult to imagine Eliza ever being nervous; she seemed to exude confidence.

“If you don’t mind my asking, if you’ve been living on your own, why did you advertise for a roommate?” Eliza paused for a few seconds before answering.

“Well, partly because rent in this city isn’t cheap. I’m a teaching assistant and it can be difficult to make ends meet. But mostly just, I like being around people. Especially after a day of just interacting with young children! It can be really nice to come back home and have some adult conversation.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much of that I can promise,” John responded with a smile, “some of my favorite conversational topics involve ‘whose turn it is in the sandbox’ and ‘which color Crayola is the bestest’.”

“That’s easy: it’s always my turn and purple. Now, let me show you around. It’s not much but it’s home!”

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _To John Freckles <3: _Hey! Hope everything’s going alright with the moving in malarkey :) Just checking you’re still on for meeting up tonight? Me and my friends (Hercules and Lafayette – don’t my friends have weirdly impressive names??) will be at The Victory bar on Mercer Street at 8. See you there! – Alex xxx

“Guys was it weird for me to sign off this text with kisses?”

Alex turned to Lafayette and Hercules who were smirking at him from the other side of table. It was 7:45 and he was feeling oddly nervous. What if John didn’t show? Even though he’d only met the guy that morning he felt an urge to impress him.

“ _Non!_ That is because you want to kiss him, _naturellement.”_

“No, I don’t! Well, maybe a little bit. But you can’t mention anything to him! I’ve only known him for like 5 minutes and I don’t want to scare him off.”

At this point, Hercules decided enough was enough.

“Alright, children, settle down now. We will of course not mention to the Love of Alex’s Life his plans for marriage and babies. At least not until we’ve got a few drinks in him.”

“Or something else in him,” muttered Lafayette with an exaggerated wink at Alex, prompting Alex to throw a beer mat at him. This was swiftly followed by an all-out beer mat war which ended in all three men being given Stern Looks from the bartender. Just as he was about to launch into a tirade at his friends about responsible innuendo use, Alex’s phone buzzed.

 _From John Freckles <3: _Will be there in 5. Looking forward to it xxx

The next five minutes were spent with Alex alternately trying to look cool and trying to subdue Lafayette and Hercules’ fits of giggles  at his attempts to look cool. Alex was doing this rather ineffectively when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Alex? How’s it going?”

“John! So good to see you, come sit down!” John was ushered into a seat next to Alex, facing the other two, and had hardly a moment to take off his coat and catch his breath before the introductions began.

“So, these are my two best friends. Hercules Mulligan-” at this, Hercules doffed an imaginary cap,

“and Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette.” Upon seeing John’s eyes bug out a little at Lafayette’s full name, Alex continued, “He insists that that’s a normal length name in France but I’m inclined not to believe him.”

“It is of course normal for men of my superior stature and alluring good looks,” the man in question interjected indignantly, “you may, however, call me Lafayette, or simply Laf.”

“ _Merci, monsieur.”_ John replied in his best French accent (read: most like Lumiere from Beauty and the Beast).  

“ _Pas de problème.”_

“Laf, Herc, this is John Laurens.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[3 hours later]

“So what you’re saying is, the guy gets off on being measured?”

In the hour the guys had been chatting, the bar had got considerably louder and its clientele significantly drunker. The men had broken the ice quickly, especially when the retro hipster jukebox played Kate Bush’s ‘Wuthering Heights’ and all four of them simultaneously and unironically proclaimed: “This song is my JAM!” and launched into a spirited rendition, complete with interpretive dance.

“Yep!  He seemed like a perfectly normal customer at first – polite, smiley – but I went to measure his inseam and it was like, “Hello, boner!” So at first I just brushed it off-”

At this Lafayette wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, Alex wolf-whistled, and John slumped over the table with laughter. Hercules put his head in his hands and chuckled despite himsef.

“Guys! I thought we had discussed the innuendo use! So anyway, at first I _gave him the benefit of the doubt_ , because, y’know, these things happen and I didn’t want to embarrass the guy. But then, as I go to do the other leg, I get to the top of his thigh and he honest to God moans.” Hercules shudders at the memory.

“So, what did you do? Did you kick him out?” John asked, unsure of how he would have reacted in that scenario.

“Of course not, my friend! That’s valuable dirt”

Seeing John’s confusion at Hercules’s response, Alex threw a conspiratorial arm around his shoulder.

“Here’s what you need to know about Hercules Mulligan, tailor extraordinaire. He is damn good at his job, he could make a suit that would make Donald Trump look like an actual human instead of a collection of stale Cheetos stuffed inside a sock. Anyway, as such he has a very rich and very powerful clientele. You got your politicians, your rich businessmen, your media moguls, the lot. Furthermore, rich, powerful people are always Super Weird and so any information that can be gathered about them is bound to come in useful at some point; you’ve just gotta save it up for the opportune moment.”

Looking quite pleased with himself, Hercules chipped in, “I guess you could say I’m like a spy. The James Bond of the fashion world.”

Lafayette scoffed, “Ah yes, _mon ami_. I remember all those scenes in the James Bond films where Bond would be face level with an erection as he measured _le_ _pantalon_ of a middle-aged banker.”

The group once again collapsed into laughter at the deflated look on Hercules’s face. John checked his watch, “Shit! It’s getting late, I should head back.”

Flattered by the groans of the other guys, he gave them all hugs goodbye (perhaps lingering slightly too long when Alex embraced him but goddamit he was a free man and Alex smelled really good).

“It’s been really great meeting you guys. Hopefully, see you again soon?”

“ _Oui!_ I could not live without your cute face in my life now that it has been shown to me, John!” Lafayette raised his glass in the air, spilling beer all over Hercules in the process, who made a face and punched the Frenchman only somewhat playfully.

“I second Laf’s motion,” grinned Alex, “although perhaps somewhat less exuberantly because, unlike _some people_ , I can actually hold my drink (in both senses of the word!). Text me when you get home, by the way, so I know you’re safe."

John replied that he would and walked out into the crisp night air, with a smile that he couldn’t quite remove from his face. Luckily his new apartment was only a short subway ride away (he definitely couldn’t  afford to take a cab at the moment) and he was home in very little time at all. Treading quietly so as not to disturb Eliza (it was a school night after all), he made his way to his bedroom and collapsed with a satisfied sigh.

 _To Alex!!!:_ Home safe! Night night xxx

 _From Alex!!!:_ Good to hear! Sleep well, John :) xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No romance yet but I promise it's coming! Also, writing the drunk revolutionary squad (especially Lafayette) is actually my favourite thing they are such NERDS. Apologies for any errors or Britishisms, I don't have a beta/editor and proofreading is DULL! 
> 
> As always, please leave comments/kudos if you liked it - they feed my soul! Even just ":)" will make my day! All the love xxx


	3. Martha's Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's first day at his new job, yet more fluff. (This rapidly becoming a Coffee Shop AU and I am TRASH)

“Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!”

John rushed across the room to turn off his alarm clock, which was loudly and obnoxiously heralding 7am. It was a pointless alarm anyway; John had been awake stressing for at least an hour already. He read through the email on his laptop for the eighth time that morning, as if its contents would somehow have changed in an attempt by the universe to trip him up.

_“Dear Mr Laurens,_

_We are pleased to inform you that your application to work at Martha’s Corner has been successful. Please come in for a trial shift on Monday 27 th June at 9am. Don’t hesitate to contact us for any more information._

_Yours cordially,_

_Martha Washington”_

John made his way to the kitchen where he found Eliza slumped over the table next to a mug of coffee the size of her head.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he chuckled.

“Shut up,” she groaned, without looking up, “I reserve the right to be grumpy in the morning. No one should be made to wake up before 8:30am. Ever.” She sat up with a pout. “How are you do cheery at this ungodly hour, anyway?”

“Ah, I’ve always been a morning person,” John replied with a shrug. “I’ve actually been up since 6.”

Eliza made a noise somewhere between disbelief and horror.

“Well, there are some benefits of having a roommate who gets up early,” John continued. “If you look behind you, you’ll see the products of some early morning baking.” Eliza turned around and her face lit up.

“Cinnamon rolls!”

“As a thank you for being such a great roommate. Cinnamon rolls for a cinnamon roll!”

“What?” Eliza wrinkled up her nose in confusion at the joke.

“You know… the meme? ‘Precious cinnamon roll. Too good for this world. Too pure.’?” She shook her head. John went on, “It’s just a thing the kids say on the internet.”

“Whatever! I am very impressed with this baking. You can definitely stay!” Eliza sunk her teeth into one of the rolls and moaned in a way that seemed almost inappropriate for someone about to go and teach young children.  “Oh my god, John! These are amazing!”

John blushed and thanked her for the compliment as Eliza got up to wrap John in a sleepy hug.

“Seriously, these have already improved my day tenfold. You have no idea. Thank you! Right, I’ve got to go to work now,” she said, pulling on her coat and downing the last of her coffee.

“Have fun!” John smiled as handed her handbag over and waved goodbye.

“Will do! Wait – I got icing on you,” Eliza turned to him with a giggle and wiped the smudge of icing off his cheek before pressing a quick kiss to the spot where it had been. “There – all gone!”

And with that, she rushed out the door in a hurry to catch her bus. John stood in the kitchen and touched the spot where her lips had been. He blushed slightly and sighed, feeling grateful for his new life.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John checked his watch: 8:50. He’d been standing on the street opposite Martha’s Corner for five minutes.

“Fuck it, I’m going in,” he muttered to himself, crossing the street and entering the café. A smartly dressed, middle-aged woman looked up from behind the counter as the bell above the door announced his arrival. He looked around, taking in the customers sitting on worn-but-comfy looking couches and armchairs: a couple of tired college students curled up with textbooks and notes, a guy typing on a Macbook and wearing glasses which John suspected did not actually have lenses in but were for Fashion Purposes, and an imposing looking man wearing a very well-tailored suit. He was pleased to note a cat asleep on an armchair in the corner. Gathering his nerve, John walked over to the counter.

“Hi, I’m John Laurens. I have a trial shift here today.”

It wasn’t a question but the upward inflection he involuntarily put at the end of the sentence made it sound like one.

“John, of course. Great to meet you. My name is Martha Washington - I’m the boss around here, but don’t let that put you off!” replied the woman behind the counter.

“I’m sure it won’t, ma’am.” John liked the woman already. She gave off an air of stern kindness. Like a teacher who isn’t afraid to call you out when you’re not paying attention but who will give you cookies and advice when you ask for help.

“’Ma’am’! Please, do I look like my mother?! Call me Martha. Now, let’s get you started. Here’s your apron and I haven’t got you a name-tag yet because you’re still on trial, but I’m sure you’ll have one in no time.” This last remark was accompanied by a wink and John smiled in return as he tied on his apron and followed Martha behind the counter.

She gave him a quick rundown of the basics: how to use the coffee-machine, the till, where the fancy herbal teas were kept (“Although, between you and me, I really don’t see the appeal. Give me a good cup of coffee any day!”)

“Right, so I think that’s everything? Of course I don’t expect you to remember everything right away and I’m always here to help. Any questions?”

“Yeah, what’s through there?” John asked, pointing to a door behind them, marked ‘Staff Only’.

“Oh that’s the kitchen. I haven’t really used it since my mother retired and passed on the business to me. She used to bake all sorts of gorgeous cakes and things to sell but I’ve never been any good at that sort of thing. So now we just buy that stuff in and use the kitchen as more of a storage area.” Martha suddenly closed the kitchen door and pointed John towards the till.

“Looks like you’ve got your first customer, kiddo.” It was the imposing looking guy in the well-cut suit that John had noticed earlier.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” John said breezily, noticing that his ‘customer service voice’ didn’t feel nearly as forced as it had in his previous jobs. (His father hadn’t wanted him to take up part-time work during college, calling it ‘undignified’, but John had insisted that he didn’t want to be another entitled trust fund brat relying on Daddy. So he had worked, first at Walmart then MacDonalds. They were shitty jobs but he had been able to save up, which he was extremely grateful for now.)

“One large black coffee to take out, please, and a blueberry muffin.”

“Sure thing! That’s $5.50 please.”

He took the money and was quite pleased with himself when he remembered how to use the relatively complex coffee machine. Handing over the coffee and muffin, he received a warm, “Thank you, son” from the man, who then turned to Martha.

“Ok, honey, see you at home later,” he said before leaning over the counter to give her a chaste kiss. As he left with a cheery wave, John turned to Martha.

“So… is that how we say goodbye to all the customers? Because I’m not necessarily opposed, but I feel like there’s probably some regulations against it.” Martha swatted him playfully with a newspaper from the counter.

“No, that’s my husband, George. You’ll be seeing a lot of him – he’s in here most mornings before work. He’s the editor of a newspaper, _The General Times_ , but somehow he finds time to loiter around my café!” Martha huffed in mock frustration. Before John could reply they were interrupted by a chime of the bell and another customer walking in. It was then that work began properly and before John knew it two hours had passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day, I am setting a dangerous precedent! I promise lovey-dovey stuff is coming. Next chapter! Still somewhat setting the groundwork :)
> 
> As ever, please leave comments! I'm a smol child who lives for affirmation from internet praise!
> 
> Also, the Eliza not knowing the cinammon roll thing was inspired by this Ham4Ham with Lin, Pippa and Alex Lacamoire https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9eWdjsKy_bE


	4. Charles Lee is a Monumental Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was constant: the snotty comments, the pointed glances, the passive-aggressive digs (“Oh, you’re doing it that way are you? Well, it’s your funeral.”) Charles Lee was an A-Grade certified Asshat and John wasn’t sure how much more he could take."
> 
> In which we are introduced to Charles Lee and John does not handle it well. (feat. A.Ham being a needy babe via text)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for intense biphobia (because Charles Lee is a DICK)

John was Not Having Fun. Everything had been going well for most of the morning; he’d mastered black coffee, white coffee, tea, lattes, the lot. In fact he’d been doing so well that Martha had popped out to the backroom for a couple of minutes, trusting John to cope by himself. But now he was most decidedly not coping. It had started when a customer came in and ordered a “Skinny White Vanilla Frappuccino with a shot of Caramel” and, while John was sure that that was a type of coffee, he had no idea how to go about making one. He fiddled about with the machine for a minute and was about to call Martha for help when the machine started to let off a worrying amount of steam and emit a terrifying kind of squeal.

His mind went into a panic spiral: _Oh god. I’ve broken the coffee machine. I’m going to get fired. I’m going to have to pay for a new machine. Those things are fucking expensive. I can’t afford that. ShitshitshitshitwhatamIgonnado?????_

However, before he could do anything about it, John heard a voice exclaim, “Oh my god, what the hell are you doing?!”

The voice belonged to an irritated looking guy, also wearing a Martha’s Corner apron, who immediately rushed behind the counter. He pressed a button on the back of the machine and then bashed it with his fist, prompting the machine to return to normal with a loud clunking sound. John almost collapsed with relief and then started to try and explain the situation.

“Thank you so much! I’m so sorry – I don’t know what happened! The machine started playing up and I didn’t know what to do and it’s only my first shift and I-”

The raised a hand to shush John and cut in with a raised eyebrow, “Right, whatever. So you’re the newbie? My god, they really will hire anybody these days. I’m Charles by the way, although you can call me ‘The Employee Who Actually Knows What He’s Doing’.”

“John,” came a curt reply. He could feel his hackles rising. He was not getting good vibes from this guy.

Martha chose this moment to return, arms full of cookie boxes. “So, I see you boys have met. Getting along I hope?

 

* * *

 

It was constant: the snotty comments, the pointed glances, the passive-aggressive digs (“Oh, you’re doing it _that_ way are you? Well, it’s your funeral.”) Charles Lee was an A-Grade certified Asshat and John wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He’d been working at Martha’s Corner for two weeks and, with the exception of his infuriating co-worker, everything was going pretty well. But the Charles Lee issue wasn’t going away and at this point the only thing keeping him sane was a near-constant stream of messages from Alex. He would go to the breakroom and check his phone to find:

12:02 _From Alex!!!_ : John

12:03 _From Alex!!!_ : Jooooohn

12:04 _From Alex!!!_ : JOOOHHHNNNNNN

12:06 _From Alex!!!_ : JOHN LAURENS DO NOT MAKE ME QUINTUPLE TEXT YOU, YOUNG MAN

12:08 _From Alex!!!_ : John, I swear it’s like you don’t love me or something

12:20 _From Alex!!!_ : John

12:30 _From Alex!!!_ : John are you there yet?

12:35 _To Alex!!!_ : Jesus Alex! Some of us can’t constantly be on our phones at work – I s2g ur like a puppy who wants attention sometimes

12:36 _To Alex!!!_ : What was it u wanted anyway? Xx

12:37 _From Alex!!!_ : Oh, nothing. How’s your day going? I’m about 2 seconds away from strangling TJeff atm – he keeps suggesting Ted Cruz is a viable presidential candidate??? Like wt actual f???

12:37 _From Alex!!!_ : (also, I would make an adorable puppy do not even try to deny it)

12:38 _To Alex!!!_ : true dat. also have u told TJeff that Ted Cruz is the zodiac killer. bc he is def the zodiac killer

12:38 _To Alex!!!_ : btw can beat u on the evil co-worker front – Charles Lee just told me that “bisexual is just a made up word for gay men who can’t accept that they’re gay and straight women who want men to think they’re hot”

12:38 _From Alex!!!_ : Punch him in the mouth.

12:39 _To Alex!!!_ : lol no i’d like to actually keep this job

12:39 _From Alex!!!_ : Punch. Him. In. The Mouth.

12:40 _From Alex!!!_ : Alternately, write a 10 page essay on why he’s wrong, complete with Harvard referencing and diagrams.

12:41 _To Alex!!!_ : Will bear that in mind :D g2g – back 2 work now L

John returned into the café to find it empty of customers. Charles was leaning against the counter, half-heartedly drying and putting away coffee cups; John joined him reluctantly. Martha was on the other side of the room feeding the once-stray cat that had made Martha’s Corner its home. Charles glanced over at her then turned to John with a scoff, “God, if you didn’t know she was married she would be the ultimate mad cat lady.”

“What?”

“Well, you know, the old bitch could never have kids so she replaced the hole in her life with that cat.”

John stared at Charles with disbelief – how could he talk about Martha with such flagrant disrespect and venom? Not to mention misogyny. He couldn’t help but rise to the bait, “I suggest you stop talking right now if you know what’s good for you.”

Charles snorted derisively at John’s retort, “What are you going to do, tell mama?”

“No, I’m going to introduce my fist to your face.” Charles didn’t even look mildly threatened by this, clearly not believing John. He smirked before replying.

“Woah, man, why so defensive? Do you have a crush on Martha? And that big husband of hers too, I’ll bet. I should have realised when you said you were ‘bi’. That’s code for ‘threesome fuckbuddy,’ right? That’s all you’re good for.”

“What the fuck man?”

John could barely contain his anger at this point, fists clenching and teeth gritted almost painfully. At this moment, Martha called across the room and cheerily asked John to retrieve a box from underneath the counter. As John knelt down to pick it up, Charles leant in to him and whispered, “You look pretty comfortable on your knees there, Johnny boy. Is that how she likes you?”

This last remark sent John over the edge – he sprung up and grabbed Charles by the front of his shirt, pinning him to the counter. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that attacking a colleague was a bad idea but that was quickly forgotten as the smirk was finally wiped off Charles’s smug face. His fist was about to make contact with its target when he felt a strong hand pulling him back. Martha broke them up, looking confused and upset.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Charles, who had scarpered to the other side of the room upon being released, piped up.

“He attacked me out of nowhere! This guy is clearly crazy!”

Although Martha didn’t quite look as though she believed that the attack was unprovoked, the look on her face as she turned to John was enough to make his stomach churn.

“John, what were you thinking?” John ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Adrenaline was still rushing through him and he couldn’t find the right words to explain. ‘ _Charles was implying that I want to have a threesome with you and your husband and that you make me perform oral sex’_? Nope, that wouldn’t do. He decided on short and simple.

“I’m sorry. Charles was making, uh, inappropriate comments.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem reason enough for physical violence.” Martha gave John a cold stare that made him want to curl up under a blanket and cry. “John, I think you should go home now and calm down. We will discuss this further tomorrow.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, please leave comments/kudos if you liked (or have suggestions - I am so up for plot suggestions!) They feed my soul! 
> 
> New updates soon - I have another chapter and a half written which I need to type up (no spoilers but they feature a cuddly movie night DMC with Eliza and drunken party antics in which John is Conflicted)


	5. Charles Lee is still a MONUMENTAL DICK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How would you like the one and only Eliza Schuyler Bad Day Cure? 100% effective, money-back-guaranteed, copyright pending.”  
> John smiled, “That sounds enticing. What does it entail?”  
> “Well, it mainly involves ordering an extra-large pizza with all the toppings and watching cheesy movies until we fall asleep. Sound ok?” John nodded his assent and Eliza grinned.
> 
> Cuddles and movie night with Eliza, followed by Charles Lee getting his comeuppance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: for homophobic slurs

The journey back home was just long enough for John’s rage to dissipate, leaving behind only a sense of cold dread. Just two weeks and already he’d gone and messed up, probably getting himself fired in the process. He let himself into the apartment and found it empty; Eliza wouldn’t be home for another hour. Unsure of what to do with himself he collapsed down on the couch and ran through the day in his head again.

 

* * *

 

Eliza hummed softly to herself as she entered the apartment and dropped her bag by the door. It had been a good day. She had led an arts and crafts session with the kids and at the end of class Sasha, a quiet girl who always sat at the back and only spoke when spoken to, gave Eliza the painting she’d made. She was on her way to stick it on the fridge when she caught sight of her roommate.

John was sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and staring blankly into space.

“John?” He didn’t answer.

“John?” Eliza continued, “Are you ok? What happened?” John finally turned to look at her and shook his head despondently.

“I think I messed everything up, ‘Liza. I-” His face crumpled and he hid it in his hands.

“Oh, honey,” Eliza dropped a sympathetic kiss to the top of his head, “Sit right there. I’m going to make us some tea and you can tell me all about it.” She disappeared into the kitchen and came back three minutes later with two steaming hot mugs of sweet tea and a bar of chocolate with a post-it note stuck on it that read ‘For Emergencies’.

“Right, so tell me what happened.” She said, sitting down beside John and running a hand through his hair.

He leaned into her touch and began to recount the days’ events, including a few of Charles Lee’s remarks verbatim because he needed to convey just how vile the man really was. Eliza winced at some of the nastier comments continued to stroke John’s hair soothingly.

“…and then I nearly punched him but Martha stopped me and sent me home early. She said to come in and talk tomorrow. I really think she’s going to fire me – I can’t see why she wouldn’t.” John hurriedly wiped what could have been a tear from his eye and started to stand up. Eliza caught him by the waist and pulled him back down onto the couch into a tight hug.

“Hey, hey, its’ going to be ok. Here’s what you’re going to do: tomorrow you are going to go in there and tell Martha everything you just told me, including all those horrible things Charles said, and then tell her that you’re sorry. You handled it badly but you were being verbally abused in your workplace by a homophobic co-worker and you shouldn’t have to put up with that. And, if the worst comes to the worst, we’ll find you a new job.”

John nodded at Eliza’s words, gratitude clear in his face, and she reiterated, “You’re going to be ok. Everything will be fine.”

“Thank you.” He curled up at her side, with his head on her shoulder, “sorry for being such a mess.”

“Not a problem,” Eliza chuckled, “I never pass up an opportunity for cuddling and chocolate. Besides, you’re not a mess – everyone has bad days sometimes.” She took a sip of her tea and continued. “How would you like the one and only Eliza Schuyler Bad Day Cure? 100% effective, money-back-guaranteed, copyright pending.”

John smiled, “That sounds enticing. What does it entail?”

“Well, it mainly involves ordering an extra-large pizza with all the toppings and watching cheesy movies until we fall asleep. Sound ok?” John nodded his assent and Eliza grinned.

“Great! You wait there. I’ll get my laptop and then we can get started!”

 

* * *

 

Five hours later and Eliza and John were nestled under a large pile of blankets, empty pizza box abandoned on the floor, watching Legally Blonde. They had already made it through Mean Girls and The Lion King, practically reciting both movies by heart.

“Do you think he’s hot?”

“What?” Eliza looked up in surprise at John’s question.

“Warner – do you think he’s hot? It’s just… I’m trying to work out how this guy is hot enough for both Elle and Vivian to be fighting over him and I just don’t see it.”

Eliza squinted at the screen, considering for a few moments. “No, I don’t see it. But then I’m like the acest ace ever to ace, so sexual attractiveness isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”

There was a pause.

“Ace is asexual, right?” Eliza nodded. “I didn’t know that about you.”

“Yep, I tend not to mention it too much around new people. It always feels like awkward to bring up – and most of the time I have to through the whole Asexuality 101 crash course to explain it, which can be a bit tiring. Plus, to make matters more complicated, I still date and sometimes sleep with men, so I get the ‘Special Snowflake Straight Girl’ comments.”

John let out a low whistle, “Damn. That sucks. Just so you know, if you ever want to talk about that stuff I’m right here – I don’t know a lot about ace stuff but we can swap ‘awkwardly explaining your sexual orientation to people who don’t really believe you’ stories!”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” Eliza smiled as she settled back down, resting her head on John’s shoulder and tucking a blanket around her toes. “Now sssh, Elle’s about to do the perm speech and it’s my favourite part.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, John followed Eliza’s advice and explained everything to Martha. Much to his relief, she seemed to understand.

“Well, that certainly does make more sense than Charles’s version of events. He told me that you attacked him completely unprovoked.” Martha narrowed her eyes slightly, “I’ve had my suspicions about Charles before and given what you’ve told me I shall be keeping a close eye on him. One more homophobic or abusive comment and he’s gone.”

Upon hearing this, John had to resist a strong urge to hug the woman. “Thank you for being so understanding. I am so sorry about my reaction yesterday - I promise I’ll be on best behavious from now on.”

Martha gave him a wry smile. “You’d better be, young man. I’ll have my eye on you too; I will not tolerate fistfights in my café. Now get out there and serve some customers while I have a little chat with Charles.”

Ten minutes later, John was serving a chai latte to a sweet old lady who requested ‘one of those new-fangled coffees the kids are all drinking’ when he heard raised voices coming from the back room. Well, one raised voice.

“What the FUCK, MARTHA?!”

And then Charles Lee was storming out into the café with a face like rotten lemons and throwing his apron onto the ground. He stopped to point at John as Martha appeared in the doorway, arms folded across her chest.

“HIM?! YOU’RE TAKING HIS WORD OVER MINE?!”

“It’s not a matter of taking sides, Charles,” Martha said calmly, trying to defuse the situation, “I’m just trying to be fair to everyone here. Now if you’ll please calm down we can try and work this out – away from the customers.” This last was said with a pointed nod to the customers who were watching the drama unfold with unabashed excitement. John thought they would make a significant profit if they sold popcorn on this occasion.

“No! I will not calm down! Either this _fag_ goes, or I do!”

This was said with such venom that John stumbled back slightly, wishing to be anywhere else right now. Martha’s face turned stony and she spoke in a cold, clipped tone.

“Well then, it appears you’ve made your decision. I will not tolerate this kind of abuse from my staff. Please leave immediately and do not return. You will receive whatever payment you are owed.”

Charles’s face turned white, “What the fuck? You can’t be serious!”

“Charles if I am forced to ask you again I will not hesitate to call the police. You will leave now.”

With one final look of disgust, Charles Lee spat on the ground and left. Martha turned to John who was feeling relieved, if still slightly shell-shocked. “Well,” she said, “I guess I’ll need to put the ‘Hiring’ sign up again.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GIVE ME FEEDBACK KIDS - also plot suggestions, lots of plot suggestions

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Also, this hasn't yet been beta-d so apologies for any mistakes. Please leave comments and/or suggestions (constructive criticism, like "stop using so many damn subordinate clauses!" and "why do you write like a 12 year old m8?" is always welcome!) xxx


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